


Intersecting Lines

by msraven



Series: Lessons [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Backstory, Clint Needs a Hug, Getting Together, M/M, Pheels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shortest distance between two lives is not always a straight line.</p><p>Five times Phil's path intersects with Clint's and one time they walk it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intersecting Lines

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Mentions of abuse/past abuse (nothing graphic)

1.  
Phil is thirteen the last time he spends a summer at his grandfather’s house in Iowa, although he doesn’t know it at the time. All of his friends back in Chicago make fun of him for getting stuck in the middle of nowhere for the summer, but Phil likes Iowa and loves his grandfather. He likes helping out around the small farm, how quiet it is away from the city, and especially how much brighter the stars look at night.

On his last night there, Phil takes the familiar route out the back door and to his favorite tree between his grandfather's house and the farm next door. He lights his way with a small flashlight, picking his way carefully along the exposed roots of the old tree, and is surprised to find a little boy huddled against the base of the tree. The boy flinches away from the small circle of light and Phil instinctively shuts off the flashlight, plunging them both into darkness. 

It takes a minute for Phil’s eyes to adjust to moonlight - bright enough for him to see how scared the little boy looks as he tries to melt into the tree. 

"Sorry," Phil apologizes. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I was here first!" the boy responds defiantly despite how his voice quakes. "It was my tree before you showed up."

Phil squats down slowly to keep from spooking the kid any more, unsure what is keeping him from just turning around and leaving the boy alone. "I've never seen you here before," Phil says quietly. 

"That's cuz you never look up," the kid fires back. 

Phil does look up then, to the nest of branches above him. The kid has to be part monkey to climb up there, but Phil doesn't doubt that he's telling the truth. 

"Why aren't you up there now?" Phil asks, instantly regretting it when the kid huddles into a smaller ball. 

"I...uh...fell and my...leg hurts too much to climb."

Phil suddenly feels angrier than he ever has in his life. He's old enough and smart enough to understand why his grandfather glares daggers at his closest neighbor, why he has the number to CPS memorized, and why he grumbles to his friends about feeling helpless. Phil’s anger burns white-hot in his belly and then fizzles as quickly as it had flared - if his grandfather is unable to keep this man from hurting his family, there is nothing Phil can hope to accomplish. 

Feeling small and insignificant, Phil moves to sit with his own back against the rough bark of the tree, careful to make no movements toward the kid, and looks out at the stars.

“If you squint,” Phil points, “I think that constellation looks like Captain America’s shield.”

“Who’s Captain America?” the kid asks and Phil can’t help his gasp of outraged surprise. 

“How can you not know who Captain America is?” Phil exclaims. The kid only shrugs, but Phil thinks he sees a hint of a smile, so he starts correcting the hole in the boy’s education. 

Phil tells him all about Steve Rogers and how he becomes Captain America, about his friend Bucky and how he was eventually lost in the ice. He talks, the kid asking a few questions here and there, until Phil’s grandfather calls him back to the house. 

The next morning, before Phil leaves for the long drive home, he sneaks out to the old tree and reaches up on the tips of his toes to leave one of his favorite Captain America books among the branches. Phil steals a glance at the house next door, feeling a little less insignificant in a world suddenly harsher than the day before, and walks away.

 

2.  
Phil is eighteen when he officially leaves home for the first time. His family doesn’t have enough money to send him to college, so Phil has enlisted in the army. He doesn’t regret his decision and is looking forward to following in his grandfather’s footsteps.

The week before he’s scheduled to start Basic, Phil uses up some of his savings to drive out to Iowa. He stands in front of his grandfather’s gravestone and fights the guilt that still gnaws at him after all these years. Logically, he knows that there is nothing he could have done to stop the heart attack that had claimed his grandfather’s life, but Phil also knows that a week earlier and he would have been at the house to call for help, maybe even attempt CPR.

Phil sighs and shakes his head. He’s made his peace with the guilt, knows now that it was what drove him to act out, to become the opposite of the ‘good boy’ his grandfather once knew, and considers himself lucky that he hadn’t ended up in juvie or worse.

“I’m back on track grandpa,” Phil whispers and runs his hand along the top of the smooth marble. “I promise. Running with the good crowd from now on. I start Basic next week and I...I’ll make you proud of me again.”

The breeze kicks up and Phil smiles, imagining that it’s his grandfather’s sign of approval. He gives the stone one last caress before turning to walk back toward his car. He almost misses the kid hiding behind one of the other gravestones wearing an ill-fitting black suit.

Phil had passed a small group at a burial on his way in, over on the more crowded area of the small cemetery, and assumes the kid belongs to them. Knowing it’s what his grandfather would do, Phil stops and squats down instead of walking by. The rustle of his pants is enough to have the kid scrambling further away and wiping furiously at his wet cheeks.

“Go away,” the kid glares. “Leave me alone.”

“Can’t do that until I make sure you’re okay. My grandpa wouldn’t approve if I just left you here,” Phil says calmly and nods back toward his grandfather’s grave.

“I’m fine. You can leave now.” The kid makes another swipe at his face and Phil smiles as gently as he can.

“It’s okay to cry when you’re sad,” Phil says. “I did when my grandpa died.”

“I’m not sad. I’m glad they’re gone,” the kid fires back. “Maybe not my mom...but I’m glad he’s gone and she’s...better now.”

Phil’s jaw drops at the kid’s viciously spoken words, glad that he turns away and lets Phil take a moment to absorb what he’s said. His mind flashes back to another little kid all those years ago, but Phil never got a good look at the boy by the tree and it seems impossible for this to be a huge coincidence. 

“I...I’m not sad,” the kid repeats in a quieter voice. “I’m scared. They’re sending us away and Barn says I’m being stupid, that it can’t be any worse than before, but...”

“It’s scary going somewhere you don’t know,” Phil finishes for him and the kid nods jerkily and glances over his shoulder at Phil before looking away again.

“Can I tell you something?” Phil asks and waits for the kid to look at him fully before continuing. “I’m going away too and it’s just as scary when you’re eighteen as when you’re...”

“Eleven,” the kid answers and Phil lets himself smile again. 

“How about I make you a deal?” Phil says. “I won’t tell anyone you’re scared and you do the same for me? And I agree to be brave if you do?”

The kid looks at him suspiciously at first and it breaks Phil’s heart a little that a kid so young has reason to be this distrustful. The boy eventually nods again and holds his hand out toward Phil.

“Deal.”

“Deal,” Phil replies and shakes the kid’s smaller hand. He looks up when movement catches his eye. “I think they’re looking for you.”

The kid stands, scrubs at his face with the sleeves of his jacket, and squares his shoulders. Phil watches him walk away, back straight and shoulders firm even as an older boy catches up with him, clearly unhappy. Phil silently wishes the kid luck and tucks the memory away in the corner of his mind for use the next time Phil needs to be brave - he thinks he’ll need it.

 

3.  
Phil is twenty-six when he goes to the circus for the first time. It’s one of those USO-organized events where everyone in the audience is military. It feels silly and a little childish, but Phil is just back from his latest, somewhat hellish, last deployment and he’s looking forward to spending a few hours not thinking about anything. There’s a letter back in his room containing an offer from a government agency Phil has never heard of before and he firmly pushes it to the back of his mind.

The circus performances are pretty much what Phil is expecting. There are animal tamers, clowns, a trapeze act, and more clowns. Phil is feeling pretty relaxed when they announce the final act - Hawkeye, The World’s Greatest Marksman - and a wave of good-natured boos and grumbles erupts from the crowd at the title. Everyone is then stunned into silence when a lone figure drops from overhead with no safety line or net, firing a barrage flaming arrows as he goes, hitting a set of targets on the ground, before spinning in mid-air to fire a final arrow upward, sending a line towards the rigging above and slowing his descent enough for Hawkeye to land lightly on his feet with his arms raised in triumph. The crowd roars in approval and Hawkeye executes a series of backflips and then launches himself into the air, landing on a galloping horse that’s been released from the sidelines. Hawkeye hits several more targets from his precarious perch atop the horse and Phil finds himself at the edge of his seat for the rest of the act.

At the end of the night, Phil finds himself standing in line with the rest of his fellow soldiers, waiting to have their complimentary circus posters signed by the performers. Hawkeye’s line is the longest and it takes Phil over an hour to make it to the front. The archer is still in his costume, mask and all, and Phil finds his eyes drawn to his wide shoulders and well defined arms. It’s not until he gets closer that Phil is startled by how young the marksman looks underneath the purple cowl and mask.

Phil slips his poster onto the table and Hawkeye signs it quickly before looking up and meeting Phil’s eyes. He’s startled again when there’s a flash of some unknown emotion in the circus performer’s beautiful eyes. Hawkeye puts his pen down for the first time that night and holds his hand out to Phil, who takes it automatically.

“Thank you for your service,” Hawkeye says sincerely and Phil can’t do anything but nod in response.

A shiver of attraction runs over Phil’s skin as the archer continues to clasp his hand. It’s then that his mind reminds him where he is and who he’s surrounded by - now is not the time or place for sudden epiphanies about his sexuality. Phil pulls his hand away and drops it to his side, fingers curling around his palm that is still warm from Hawkeye’s grip.

“Thanks...for the, uh, autograph,” Phil stammers and forces himself to turn away without looking back.

He knows that it would be easy to double-back, to sneak back to the circus after the rest of audience is gone, and see exactly where this attraction would take them. Phil knows without thinking too hard about it that any advance he makes will be more than welcomed by Hawkeye. Somehow, it’s how easily he can see himself taking the step and not it’s illicit nature that keeps Phil resolutely in his room that night.

It does, however, fill him with a startling clarity as to where he doesn’t belong. Phil calls SHIELD at dawn.

 

4.  
Phil comes very close to not making it to his thirty-second birthday.

It’s his first mission as the senior agent in charge and Phil isn’t prepared for his team to end up in the middle of a firefight between two rival gangs. He’s got the team hunkered down in various locations within the crumbling city, waiting to see which gang emerges on top. 

As the firefight begins to die down, Phil sneaks out into an alley to get a better view of the situation. He is just about to head back under cover when the brick by his head explodes and a line of fire burns along his jaw. Phil ignores the pain and the blood, eyes automatically following the trajectory of the bullet and lifting his own gun to fire. What he finds is a man slumped over the side of a nearby roof, his sniper rifle hanging precariously from a strap caught on his shoulder.

“Agent Coulson!” calls Sitwell in his ear. “Do you need assistance?”

“Negative,” Phil responds, grabbing a handkerchief out of his pocket to try and stem the bleeding. “Stay in position.” 

Phil scans the nearby rooftops, but sees no other movement, and he slides back into the cover of the building to let the medics tend to his injury.

It’s not until after the end of the firefight, when his team has finally emerged to contain the remaining gang members, that Phil gets a glimpse of his guardian angel. Phil is standing over the dead body of the first sniper, matching Sitwell’s amazement that the shot which had taken him out had gone through the sniper’s own scope and originated from a window just above where Phil had been standing. If the shot from Phil’s angel had been a split second later, Phil would be dead. 

Phil feels a tingling at the back of his neck that tells him he’s being watched and he turns to look out across the rooftops. A lone figure stands several buildings away, nothing but a shadow against the backdrop of the setting sun. Phil knows he should call out a warning to the others and order them to intercept and capture a possible enemy sniper, but no sound emerges. Instead, Phil nods in acknowledgement and thanks, somehow knowing the small movement will be seen across the distance. 

The figure brings a hand to his forehead in salute and then disappears from view. Phil is sure it will not be the last time they meet.

 

5.  
Phil is thirty-eight the first time he blatantly lies to his boss. For the only time in his career with SHIELD, Phil begs off an op, claiming exhaustion from his latest string of missions. Phil wants no part in Fury’s attempt to capture, kill, or recruit the elusive Hawkeye. He could tell himself that it’s just a coincidence, that it’s possible the infamous mercenary is not the circus performer that had caught Phil’s attention all those years ago, but he’s never been good at lying to himself. 

Fury chooses to lead the strike team himself and Phil sneaks back into HQ to listen in on the comms. He winces at the confusion and chaos caused by the mercenary and laughs outright when it all culminates in Fury returning to the command vehicle to find his entire strike team unconscious, but uninjured, with Hawkeye patiently guarding over them.

It’s not a surprise that Fury calls Phil in as soon as they return to HQ. He walks into the interrogation room and finally comes face to face with Hawkeye - archer, circus performer, master marksman, and former mercenary. The handsome face is unfamiliar, but there is no mistaking the eyes that rove over Phil’s face.

Phil glances down at the folder in his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Specialist Barton.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Phil,” Clint responds with a smirk that widens into a grin when both Sitwell and Hill choke on their sips of coffee.

“You know each other?” Sitwell sputters.

“Not quite,” Clint answers before Phil can speak, “but we will.”

It takes a year for Phil to succumb to the promise in Clint’s words, six more months after that for him to realize that the cocky archer is someone he can no longer live without. 

Phil is forty when he seals their vows with a kiss and recites his own promise to love, honor, and cherish.

 

+1  
Phil meets the love of his life when he’s thirteen, but he doesn’t know it until he’s forty-five. 

It’s two years after the failed Chitauri invasion that Phil gets a phone call from his cousin telling him that their grandfather’s house is being demolished to make way for a new elementary school. Phil hasn’t been back to Iowa for over two decades, so he’s not expecting the sudden compulsion to see the house one last time. He asks Clint to travel with him because he wants the chance to share his good memories of all those summers with his husband.

The fact that Clint grew up in Waverly, Iowa is written plainly in his file, but Phil has never considered it as more than just a cursory piece of information - like a shadow in his peripheral vision that he’s never taken the time to turn and focus on. Now, as he watches his husband sink into himself, lost in a tumultuous sea of bad memories, Phil wishes he’d taken the time to learn and understand more about what made Clint the man he is today. 

Phil doesn’t apologize because Clint would not take it kindly and instead vows to make this trip as short as possible. Their first stop is the cemetery and Phil leaves Clint sitting silently in the car only to find the archer gone when he returns. A quick look around finds Clint kneeling at a set of gravestones not far from the car. A long-forgotten memory nags at Phil, but he pushes it away as an impossibility, watching intently as Clint makes his way back to Phil’s side. He reaches out to squeeze his husband’s fingers, relieved when he gets a squeeze in return.

“You’re fucking with me,” Clint accuses when they reach their next stop.

“What? Why?” Phil asks in confusion. He looks out the car window at his grandfather’s old house and then the house next door - the other house had been rebuilt a decade earlier, but the old tree is still standing proudly between the two properties. “No. It’s not possible.”

“This was your grandfather’s house?” Clint says incredulously. “You came here every summer?”

“That was you? The little kid who hid in the tree?” 

“You left me a Captain America comic book,” Clint answers. “I...they wouldn’t let me keep it at the orphanage.”

Phil reaches out and grabs Clint’s hand, still unwilling to believe how many times their lives have unknowingly intersected over the years. “That day, at the cemetery, it was your parents’ burial?”

Clint nods. “How is any of this possible?”

Phil opens his mouth to answer, to try and put a theory behind the seemingly random coincidences, but stops when he realizes there is no suitable answer. “Does it matter? It doesn’t really change anything, does it?”

“No,” Clint responds after a moment of thought. “It doesn’t change anything, but thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking the time to talk to me, for not turning your back,” Clint answers. “It meant a lot to me then, means even more now that I know it was you.”

Phil has no response to Clint’s confession other than to lean over until his left hand is covering their joined ones - the matching wedding rings glinting in the fading light. Whether it’s fate or coincidence or blind luck, it seems he is meant to have Clint in his life and Phil can be nothing but absurdly grateful.

~^~

Clint is six when he is first shown unconditional kindness. He’s eleven when he learns that bravery is about facing your fears and not avoiding them. He’s nineteen when he feels the first tendrils of desire. He’s twenty-five when he realizes that following his heart and his gut means more than a quick paycheck. He’s thirty-two when he starts to believe that he’s better than his past and thirty-four when he finally embraces love.

Clint is six when he meets the love of his life, but it’s not until he’s thirty-eight that he finally accepts that he’s meant to keep him.

_fin_


End file.
